Angry
by El loopy
Summary: [Musical based] Marian sees Fosco really, genuinely angry for the first time. Marian's POV of the scene in the library. Marian x Fosco. [Oneshot]


Angry

Fosco's voice had turned calm, melodic, as he soothed at Glyde's nerves. Marian felt the sharp edges of her own become coated with honey as he purred and coaxed, as though to a child.

"Can't the papers wait another day?"

Then _his _voice, like a violin dragged over a bow string, a screech sending fire back through her veins.

"This is a timely matter and it – will – not – wait!"

Laura's voice followed on its heels, sharp all of its own and defiant. "I will gladly sign when I know what it is." There was no fear of the blows her husband may rain down on her later. Marian couldn't have been more proud.

This had not been what she expected of this morning but then, on reflection, it made perfect nauseating sense. In her mind she was still processing what Laura had revealed about her husband. She was still reconciling the caring, attentive, soft-spoken Sir Percival with a money-grabbing man who beat his wife. Now those two images clashed, melted, and her anger stirred, breathing fire in her breast. Her own deep betrayal for he sister's pain ate away her insides and stoked the flame. She stood by Laura's side, wishing she were her warrior or bodyguard, but in absence of that endeavoured to be a second supporting voice.

Fosco was cooing again, like he did to his birds, words to bring peace. His eyes were, for the most part, on Glyde, but every so often she would feel them alight on her, and she was clear who he was doing this for.

Yet for all his reasoning and his flattery, Glyde's face merely grew darker with anger.

"In all good conscience I could not be a witness now."

With this final statement, an argument for reason, expressing the futility of force, and Glyde's temper snapped. He exploded out of his seat, snatching his wife's arm in his hand and crushing it as he shook her.

"I will not stand for it!" he bellowed.

"Stop it, stop it," Marian gasped with half a sob, fear for Laura drowning out everything else. Fear of Glyde. Fear in the sudden reminder of how weak they were, how powerless as women when the brute strength of men came into it.

"Keep your temper sir," Fosco's voice rose over Glyde's, now no longer soothing but commanding. Sir Percival turned on his friend with teeth bared, dragging Laura by the arm behind him.

"Stay out of my way," he snarled before turning back on his wife. "You will be confined," he screamed in her face with a further shake, her head snapping back and forth, hair tangling over her eyes, wide frightened eyes, "Until you change your mind."

Marian tried to approach, tried to move but helplessness rooted her legs to the ground. What could she do? If only she were a man then she could step in and pry his fingers off her sister one by one...

"Sir, this is not right!"

She could feel Fosco beside her, his condemnation at Glyde's loss of self control rolled off him. She had never seen him angry before. Not like this. He was indignant. He was fuming. Somehow he made himself twice his normal size, puffing up until he towered over Glyde; Glyde, who was ranting at his wife, with every movement shaking her harder, and not noticing his companions. Marian's eyes snapped to their only hope and his eyes met hers, blazing with fire. It seemed her glance was the last straw and he stepped menacingly towards Glyde. His voice, normally so soft, so calm, suave and charming, was now raised; sharp, loud – terrifying.

"Glyde!" He was magnificent! The object of his wrath froze, turning a furious, startled stare on his friend. "You must hold your tongue!" He took a step forward. "You must not react." Another step until he was inches from Glyde's face. "You must leave at once," the roar becoming an icy whisper, full of disgust as he leant in, "with your good name – in – tact."

Their gazes locked, fought, and with a hiss of anger Glyde released his wife and strode from the room.

Now Marian felt how fast her heart was racing and how her head went light with relief. Again she looked at the Count, eyes full of gratitude and she felt her heart pick up again at the way he looked back at her.

Laura was not so easily impressed. She retreated like a wounded animal, snapping at them both and Marian felt sad, sad and hurt that he sister would trust no one, not even their saviour.

Foolish Marian. Stupid Marian.

Laura had been right, of course, and she, Marian, had been blind. Yet she still couldn't help remember that moment with an ache in her chest; the moment when the man who so openly admired her had flashed with an anger he never displayed, and she had believed that everything was going to be all right because she, and therefore they, had a protector. She remembered the way he had looked at her and bowed, after Laura had left the room, and heat had flushed her skin.

Yes, foolish Marian, stupid Marian...but he really had looked magnificent.


End file.
